Full Steam Ahead
by Mary Lou Royal
Summary: From what I've read, only first class and steerage passengers are capable of falling in love. Don't people from second class have hearts, too? Naturally, coming from me, this is going to be a LoweFic. Please R
1. Chapter I

**Note: Just my sweet little LoweFic, my current fluff pet project. As I see it now, it will stay fairly independent of the movie, but like you, I have yet to see. Sorry, no Lowe yet in this first chapter, but bear with me!**

**Warning: Vaguely MarySue-ish, but like all my stories, I try not to make it _too _overbearing.**

**Disclaimer: Although Lowe owns my heart, I do not own him. Darn. I also do not own the _Titanic _or any of the movie characters that may make an appearance. Only the Chamberlains and any other second class characters I introduce at the moment can I so far call my own.**

**P.S. Please review, I am new and naïve, and I need your help to know I this fic is worth continuing…of course, since this is my pet project, I'll most likely continue even if I get pummeled with hundreds of flamers, but suggestions for improvement are always appreciated. **

Chapter I

Aria Chamberlain clambered most unceremoniously out of the car followed closely by her mother, Emily, who was heavily burdened with their luggage. But Aria was totally oblivious to her mother's struggle as she gaped in pure awe at the massive construct before her.

"882 feet from bow to stern, two triple expansion engines with one turbine, gross tonnage of 46,329, the power of 46,000 horses, a top speed of…" Aria rattled off expertly. Despite her gender, her interest in machinery and technology was irrepressible.

"Yes, dear," Emily Chamberlain gasped as she unloaded some of her burden on her daughter. "You've been going over these figures with me since I got the tickets."

"I know, Mother, but isn't she splendid?"

And splendid it was. There she was, the RMS Titanic, freshly painted and waiting to take them home to America. Her white upper decks stood out next to the hulking dark hull, from which portholes peered out like thousands of relatively tiny eyes. A handsome orange stripe curved its way around her contours, giving her an extra air of unidentifiable glory. In the eyes of the 18-year-old, she was the most beautiful thing in the world…even if she _was_ English-built.

"Yes, it _is _quite beautiful, isn't it?" the widow paused to agree.

Aria rolled her eyes. "_She, _Mother. You always call a ship _she."_ She tossed up her hands as if this was supposed to be obvious.

Mrs. Chamberlain gave her daughter a small smile. Ever since the death of her husband six years ago when Aria was twelve, she had been doing her best to rear a distinguished and elegant young lady. Although she had been for the most part successful in her task, she had never been able to quite put out that flame for technology that her father had instilled in her. Aria managed to keep it quiet most of the time, at least in front of company, but the sight of this triumph of human ingenuity had seemingly temporarily erased eight years of societal education.

That brief reflective moment passed, and Mrs. Chamberlain all at once became the mother again. "Don't talk back to your mother, Aria. And smooth out your skirt, moving through this crowd has made it look a fright. Now, walk with you shoulders back…don't slouch, show good posture for once, girl!"

Aria, still gaping at _Titanic, _absent-mindedly obeyed her mother's commands, smoothing out her simple yet pretty cream-colored skirt. Mrs. Chamberlain straightened her daughter's hat over her straight caramel-colored hair and smoothed her dark coat. Licking her handkerchief, Mrs. Chamberlain wiped away a small smudge of dirt near Aria's light brown eyes. Satisfied with the preening, Mrs. Chamberlain led her daughter through the crowd of third-class passengers awaiting their turn for a health inspection, and up to the second class gangway. Aria felt her heart pound with excitement as she neared the ship, the sea gulls swooping about overhead.

As the officer checked their tickets, Mrs. Chamberlain asked her daughter, "Aria, how does it feel to be stepping aboard an unsinkable ship?"

Aria suppressed another eye roll. "Of _course _she isn't unsinkable, mother. She's English."


	2. Chapter II

**I must admit, I enjoy writing for more obscure characters, (no offense, my dear Lowe!) since it leaves more room for interpretation for the personality. Please Review and let me know what you think of Lowe in this one!**

**Note: Any historical indiscrepencies or inconsistincies with the film are either necessary or unintended.**

"You know somebody?" a man with a heavy foreign accent asked his blonde travelling companion.

"Of course not! That's not the point! Goodbye, I'll miss you!" the second man, an American, shouted back over the cheering of the crowd. Like just about everyone on board, the two were leaning over the port railing, waving enthusiastically to the mass of people gathered for _Titanic's _send off. Just about everyone, that is, except for the second-class girl facing completely in the opposite direction.

Aria stood, legs shoulder-width apart, arms hanging limply at her sides, mouth gaping open, eyes wide and transfixed, staring at the smokestacks. She knew that her mother would disapprove of every aspect of the way she was holding herself, but she didn't care.

She had left her mother twenty minutes ago in their second class stateroom, after much begging and pleading to be allowed up on deck for the big moment. The whole affair was supposedly "unladylike," and no self-respecting mother would allow her daughter, now a young adult, to be seen acting in such a childish way. Aria then proceeded to give her mother an in-depth explanation on how the fourth smokestack served no essential purpose in the running of the ship, and was just there for show. Mrs. Chamberlain had a sudden change of heart and decided that yes, Aria should go up and take part in the festivities.

Then came the moment that Aria had been waiting for. Her heart rate doubled, her ears throbbed, and tears of happiness sprang into her eyes. _Titanic _had sounded her horn.

* * *

In spite of himself, the young officer's face split into a wide ear-to-ear grin. He had always wanted to do that.

Captain Smith observed him with silent amusement, remembering his first time sounding the horn. "I take it you enjoyed that, Mr. Lowe."

With a little jump, Fifth Officer Harold Godfrey Lowe composed himself. "Very much, sir," he replied in his thick Welsh accent.

"Very good. You are excused, Mr. Lowe."

Lowe, with a little salute, turned on his heel and exited the bridge, joining his friends and fellow officers in the sunlight on the adjoining deck.

"Was that fun, or what?" Second Officer Lightoller teased, nudging Lowe with his elbow. All Lowe could do was smile, which caused the others to do the same; aside from the fact that the joy was contagious, they had always found Lowe's smile a little dopey-looking.

"Hey, Lowe, it looks like you weren't the only one who enjoyed that," Fourth Officer Boxhall said, muffling a laugh. He was motioning to the deck below, where most of the passengers were gathered for the send off.

The other officers crossed to him and laid eyes upon the spectacle in question. There was a girl, who looked to be about eighteen and in second class, staring up in wonder in their general direction. She stood with her legs apart, arms hanging limply at her sides, mouth agape and eyes completely transfixed. It looked as if she was about to collapse in delight.

"Well, isn't she quite the prize?" Sixth Officer Moody commented, igniting guffaws and hoots of laughter in his peers.

Lowe smiled and chuckled half-heartedly, but didn't look away. Everything about her seemed so…sincere. She was performing for no one, and hiding nothing.

Although the physical distance between them was great, he saw her come out of her daze, and he could have sworn that she looked right at him. He felt a slight flutter in his chest.

The girl shook her head, and looked around her, then quickly whipped her head back to look at them as if hitting a realization. As if embarrassed, she quickly hurried out of sight.

* * *

She slowly came out of her euphoria, and her vision cleared as she blinked the tears away. She had been on board _Titanic _for barely half an hour, and yet she already loved every inch of her. Moving her eyes over the majestic shapes of her upper decks, Aria's eyes came to rest on the deck near the bridge.

Gathered there was a handful of officers, all laughing and stealing glances in her direction. Looking around, she tried to discern the source of their amusement…until she realized it was her. She looked at them quickly, shocked, and saw that one of them was staring unabashed at her, not even attempting to hide his scrutiny.

Although Aria was not as worried about appearances as most, it was not as if she had no shame. Quite flustered and mortified that she had embarrassed herself in front of the officers, the people who, in her mind, were the most important people on board besides the captain, she hurried out of sight as quickly as her skirt would allow.


	3. Chapter III

"Posture, girl!" Emily Chamberlain hissed in her daughter's ear.

Aria grimaced and tried to keep herself from fidgeting in her impatience. Staring down at her empty plate, she fervently wished shewere elsewhere.

"Well, we are leaving our Ireland to join family near Pittsburgh…Pennsylvania, correct?" a woman who had introduced herself as Shauna O'Malley explained in her heavy accent.

"How interesting," Mrs. Chamberlain said graciously with an indulgent smile. "Aria and I were just reuniting with some family in Scotland, and now we're heading home. We have some…business… to attend to."

An obvious silence settled over the table for eight. Aria looked down at the ornately patterned carpet, trying her hardest not to show the shame she had for her mother's total inability to create a cover story.

"I haf never seen such a beautiful ship," a semi-wealthy German woman, Frau Hass, commented, scrambling to change the subject.

Her boredom deepening, Aria allowed her gaze to travel over the classy swivel chairs and the rich oak wall paneling.

"It is…adequate," a pretentious lady by the name of Amelia Downheart sniffed. In Aria's opinion, the British accent completed Mrs. Downheart's arrogant image quite nicely. "My husband was too Spartan to give me first class passage, so I suppose this will do." _If her nose gets any higher, indoors or not, something's going to fly in, _Aria observed. "Mrs. Chamberlain, you seem to be a woman of stature. I am surprised that you are down here with us in second class."

As Mrs. Chamberlain opened her mouth to respond, Aria stepped in. "Mrs. Downheart, I am afraid we are not as wrapped up in class distinction as some, and we wish to eat next month," she replied coolly, keeping a straight face.

There were a few chuckles around the table, but the mother shot her daughter a venomous glare.

"Mother, may I be excused?" Aria asked, keeping all traces of emotion from creeping into her voice.

"Yes, you may," her mother answered, trying to keep the _please _out of her answer.

Standing and inclining her head in farewell to the others seated at the table, she hurried from the second class dining saloon back towards her stateroom. _Just as I planned, _she thought triumphantly.

* * *

Smoothing the plainer skirt she had changed into, she looked at the clock. The stateroom was an unfortunate little detour, but her dinner gown would not do where she was going.

The time was6:45 PM. _Titanic_ wasn't due to raise anchor and leave Cherbourg for another hour. Plenty of time. She exited her stateroom and headed for the outer deck. Taking in the gorgeous sunset and eyeing the tenders with mild interest, she made her way forward.

* * *

Fifth Officer Harold Lowe leaned gently on the ship's wheel, watching the sun hover just above the horizon. He loved being at sea…even if he wasn't technically there yet.

Alone on the bridge, he enjoyed some sense of independence and control. The other officers were helping new passengers embark and were supervising the loading and unloading of more cargo. Terribly boring stuff. Lowe had volunteered to keep watch. A slightly chill breeze blew through the wheelhouse, and he left for a moment to prepare himself a nice warm cup of tea.

* * *

Despite her weeks of careful study of anything she could get her hands on pertaining to _Titanic, _Aria still managed to get lost numerous times. After an unprecedented number of turn-arounds and dead ends, she finally found herself approaching the coveted bridge. _Just a glimpse…_she told herself. _I need to see it at least once before we reach New York._

She crouched as she approached the door, and peeked in cautiously. _Two wheels…splendid! _she thought. She was surprised to find it completely empty. This little excursion had been planned in coordination with the stop at Cherbourg since she correctly figured that the officers would be occupied with port activities, but she hadn't expected to find the area completely devoid of any crew. She intended to take full advantage of this bout of good luck. Immediately, she headed to the back wall to examine all of the instruments, phones, and the display showing the status of the watertight doors. For those few moments, Aria thought she could never be any more ecstatic. She was wrong.

* * *

Lowe had been strolling back towards the bridge, stirring his earl gray tea absentmindedly, when he heard the noise. It sounded like a small feminine squeal of excitement. Quickening his steps, he cursed his lack of alertness. He prayed that a passenger had not wandered in during his absence; the consequences for him would not be enjoyable. "Hello…is anyone out there?" he called out as he strode into an empty wheelhouse.

* * *

Aria crouched between two lifeboats, trying to quiet her breathing. Where had he come from? Suddenly, the clinking of spoon and china had alerted her to someone's approach. _How could I be so oblivious? _she wondered. _Of _course _they wouldn't leave the bridge unattended!_

The footsteps stopped. "What the…" she heard a Welsh voice mutter. "I could have sworn that I…" the footsteps moved away, accompanied by mutters of "paranoia" and "I've been at sea too long."

Allowing herself the tiniest of sighs of relief, she remained curled up in her little ball on the hard deck, just to be sure. She kept her eyes fixed on the lifeboat's black number 14 above her. After a moment, she allowed her eyes to wander, but stayed silent. _Hmm, Welin davits,_ she observed. _Aren't those designed to hold two or three boats, not one? _Reigning in her wandering mind, she focused again on listening for the man's approach. Hearing none and rapidly growing stiff, she straightened slightly and poked her head out into the open to observe her surroundings.

A pair of navy blue clad legs ending in brightly shined black shoes was what she ended up observing. "Well well, what do we have here?" asked the dashing young Welsh officer leaning against the lifeboat next to her.


End file.
